


Mystery in the Cour des Miracles

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Small scene w/child death involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 13:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3328160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I rated it Teen because of a few small scenes depicting children that had already passed on, which will be near the end of the story.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mystery in the Cour des Miracles

*Captain Treville's office*

"Looks like the real thing doesn't it, sir?" d'Artagnan showed off his fake fleur-de-lis mark on his shoulder. "The king's resident artist does excellent work," he added. "I don't even have to worry about it smearing or fading away. It can only be removed with a special solution of his own creation."

"The scar he gave you," Treville traced the puckered skin from where it started just under d'Artagnan's right eye all the way down to the boy’s jawline, "looks authentic as well."

"As do these clothes you procured for my use," d'Artagnan twirled around the office in his urchin's rags. "Do I look the part of a street beggar?"

"A young thief on the make," Treville nodded in approval, hoping that he and the king were doing the right thing using d'Artagnan in this manner.

"I never thought my first mission as a Musketeer would involve undercover work in the Court of Miracles."

"Notice I sent the others on a relatively simple mission so they wouldn't be here when I sent you off." Treville perched on the edge of his desk, arms folded as he studied the young man. "They should be back within two days time. The grief they’ll give me over this when they find out will have me draining my flask of brandy I keep hidden in my desk." Seeing the amused expression on the boy's face from his admission made Treville smile inwardly.

"Especially Porthos," d'Artagnan said. He only knew stories about the court from his friend and the little Porthos had related made d'Artagnan shudder. But he was a soldier now and would do his duty whenever and wherever it led him. "I'm amazed they didn't want to know why you didn't include me in their *simple* mission," d'Artagnan smirked.

"Oh they did," Treville huffed. "I drummed up a song and dance story about how the king needed you for some reason or other and that seemed to satisfy them," he couldn't help but notice the boy's red face. "It's just a good thing your Louis's favorite right now," he laughed lightly. "It makes sense that he'd want you by his side from time to time."

"At least, as you said, my friends didn't question you on it."

"Do not get me wrong, d'Artagnan," Treville turned serious. "This is a dangerous undertaking, and I want you to take great care." He waited to see if d'Artagnan understood that this was no lighthearted assignment. "The only reason I'm sending you in there is because no one should be able to recognize you, being in Paris barely a year. Plus the fact that since you are King Louis's champion, his Majesty thought you would be able to go in there and sniff out the culprits without any problems." 

"I will justify the king's trust and yours in me," d'Artagnan was filled with grim determination.

"You've always had my trust, son," Treville watched the lad's face fill with emotion.

"Petite garcons being taken off the streets of Paris is no small concern." D'Artagnan wanted to stop this monstrous occurrence from continuing. He could only imagine what the suffering parents of the missing were going through.

"You'll go in, establish a cover story and try to gain the information we need to arrest these criminals." Treville got up from the desk to lay a hand on d'Artagnan's arm. "Don't, whatever you do, take them on by yourself," he warned sharply. "When you send word I’ll move in with my men and pray we can recover most of the youngsters and return them to their grief stricken parents."

"I will not fail you or the king, Captain."

"I know you won't, d'Artagnan." Before he let the boy go, Treville asked, "By the way, what are you going to call yourself? I should know in case you have to send a message to me using it."

"Oui," d'Artagnan smiled, "it wouldn't do to sign the note with my real name." Thinking on it for a second or two, d'Artagnan picked out a suitable one. "I’ll be known as Dominique or Dom if you prefer," with a wink at his captain, he strolled out of the office.

++++

*Cour des Miracles*

"Eh, who's he?" a rough sounding voice asked his partner.

"Just another dirty thief like us," the other man's tone was full of venom.

"Yeah, what's one more here in the court, eh?" a younger voice snickered.

"Wonder how the queen will feel about him," came yet a deeper voice, hidden in the shadows.

Not seeing the men who had spied his entrance, d'Artagnan glided his way through the narrow paths of the court. He used to think the stench he smelled was restricted to certain quarters of Paris. In this he was wrong. Here it was much worse. It was a good thing he had eaten a light repast this morning for he feared he would have thrown it all back up, as the odor was quite pungent.

Walking among the court's citizens, d'Artagnan felt every eye was on him. He kept one hand on his dagger and the other on his pistol just in case he was accosted. Then suddenly there was a subtle change in atmosphere as the crowds in front of him parted like the Red Sea as a lone slim, blonde haired woman made her way toward him.

Non-plussed, d'Artagnan stopped dead in his tracks. All he could do was simply stare at her as the woman drew closer. She had all the regal bearing of Queen Anne herself.

"No one enters the court without my express approval!" Flea looked at the young man with hostility.

"I humbly beg your pardon," d'Artagnan apologized with a slight edge to his voice. "I'm new to Paris and was told this would be a place of safe haven for me."

Flea folded her arms as she listened to this boy weave his story for her. For *story* was surely all it was. The court, after all, was built entirely on lies of thieves, prostitutes and murdering scum. This young man's words meant nothing to her.

"I did not know I needed to gain anyone's permission first before entering." D'Artagnan figured he better try not to make any enemies yet if he wanted to build a suitable rapport with some of the people that lived here. So d’Artagnan tried to look suitably chastised. "Apologies."

"You know now!" Flea retorted sharply. "Come with me." She walked away expecting the stranger to follow her.

Raising an eyebrow, d'Artagnan realized she just gave him his marching orders. Good soldier that he was, d'Artagnan followed.

++++

*Flea's home in the court*

Looking around, d'Artagnan couldn't say it was the most comfortable of places to live, but it seemed she had made the best of her lot. "May I ask by what name you are known?"

"Flea,” she replied simply without elaborating upon how she came about having such an odd name.

"I'm Dominique," he gave her a most beguiling smile which dropped instantly seeing it had no effect. And here he was thinking that Aramis was the one losing his touch lately.

"Everyone's hiding from someone or something here," Flea's eyes narrowed on the boy. "And everyone has a game going on." Flea walked around him. She wasn’t letting this handsome lad sway her with his charming smile. And aye, despite the scar he bore, it didn’t detract from his looks none, not that she had noticed that is. "I want to know what yours is?"

He didn't know what to do. For it sounded as if he lied to her, d'Artagnan would be kicked out on his ass faster than he could say his own name. That’s if Flea decided to let him live. She could order his death and have his body left for his friends to find dumped in the Seine. He even doubted she’d call for assistance. D’Artagnan wouldn't put it past her to stick a dagger in his gut if he said one word out of place.

Taking a leap of faith, d'Artagnan made the decision to tell Flea the truth and prayed this didn't backfire on him. "I am d'Artagnan of the King's Musketeers. I have come in search of the criminals that have been responsible for the mysterious disappearances of numerous children from our city."

"You know this for certain that they are here?" Flea demanded.

"Oui," d'Artagnan nodded. "Runners from the court have been slipping us tidbits of information this past week that these men work out of this place."

Her eyes softened momentarily as Flea stared at him. "You may stay but know you'll be on your own."

"I already knew that coming in." D'Artagnan was annoyed that he wasn’t going to get any help from this quarter. “I can handle things myself.”

"Bold words from one not much older than the children that have been taken," an impish smile played about her lips.

He took no offense at her small jibe of his age. "If I survive this, I'll have three older brother-in-arms to contend with when I get back to the garrison," he scratched at an imaginary itch on his chin. "Especially Porthos," he admitted, though he didn’t know why he threw out the man’s name like that. But quick as lightning the woman was in his face.

"Porthos? You know of him?"

“He, Aramis and Athos helped train me,” d’Artagnan boasted. “I’m newly commissioned and it’s mostly thanks to their effort.”

“Well now this puts a different spin on things,” Flea bit her lip nervously. If anything were to happen to this youngster while in her domain, Porthos would have her head.

“I do not understand.”

“You wouldn’t.” Flea figured she’d better explain. “Porthos and I were once quite close.”

Giving her a bashful look, d’Artagnan nodded that he understood. “Don’t feel you have to keep an eye on me because of that past relationship.”

“Listen, d’Artagnan, just check back with me as you go on so that I at least know you’re still alive.”

Not the most comforting words d’Artagnan had ever heard, but he’d take what he could get. “I should be going.”

“Watch your back,” Flea warned. “I mean it.”

Dipping his head in respect, d’Artagnan then slipped quietly away.

++++

*Musketeer garrison*

“How could you and King Louis sanction such a mission?” Athos yelled, not caring he blasted the words at Treville.

“D’Artagnan was our choice for obvious reasons, Athos.” Treville knew he was going to get the fallout from this, not the king, and he was proven right.

“Why? Because he’s a fresh face?” Aramis huffed, not believing this could have happened in the short time they had all been away. He knew this had been planned behind their backs.

“And you sent the whelp into that den of thieves?” Porthos growled. Having been raised in that slum, he knew how deadly a place it could be, and their youngest was in there on his own.

“I suppose I’m not going to be able to stop you checking up on him.” Treville knew his men well. Even if he ordered them not to, they’d go behind his back anyway. “Just don’t ruin his cover whatever you do.”

All three abruptly turned around and left, slamming the door behind them so hard it nearly rattled off its hinges.

Collapsing into his chair, head in hands, Treville wondered if he should call the whole mission off.

++++

*Athos’s apartment*

“God damn it!” Porthos was furious as he paced back and forth .

“When do we leave?” Aramis had made sure all his weapons were cleaned and ready to go.

“First light,” Athos’s clipped voice was filled with ice. “He’s in there totally alone. No back-up at all!” He threw an empty wine glass at the innocent wall and didn’t even flinch when it broke and scattered into tiny pieces all over the floor.

“I hope Flea will watch over the whelp,” Porthos remarked. His two friends new about her in passing, though Porthos never really discussed his association with Flea in depth to them.

“Your friend from the court?” Aramis knew little of her, only what his friend cared to share.

“Aye,” Porthos responded quietly.

“First light can’t come soon enough,” Aramis announced fiercely.

“Would someone please clean up that mess?” Athos stomped off toward his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

++++

*Cour des Miracles*

Two men came out of nowhere and grabbed d’Artagnan from behind. He struggled between them but to no avail. A harsh voice from behind whispered in his ear.

“Word is you’ve been askin’ a lot of questions,” a seedy looking man wearing an eyepatch hissed.

“I’m looking to earn some coin,” d’Artagnan glared at him.

“Let’s bring him to Tich and see whatin’ he thinks,” another man with a scar across his forehead snarled.

“Tich? Who’s that?” Now that these hooligans eased up there hold D’Artagnan could have easily broken their grip, but he needed to follow through if this eventually lead to what he thought it would.

“Tichbourne,” the man with the eyepatch spoke up. “No one knows his first name,” he growled. “Now nuff talkin’. Let’s go.”

++++

Pulling the boy’s shirt away from his shoulder, Tich traced the brand of the fleur-de-lis. “Murder or theft?”

“Stealing,” d’Artagnan replied smoothly, “anything I could get my hands on.”

Coarse laughter rent the air as Tich found the boy’s remark amusing. “What’s your name, lad?”

“Dominique, but I mostly go by Dom.”

“Dom it is then,” Tich slapped d’Artagnan hard on the back. “Come meet my network of professionals,” he cackled. Tich paraded his band of cutthroats in front of the youngster. “Stephane, had gotten into a bar brawl,” he pointed to the eyepatch. “That’s how he lost his eye. Pierrick picked the wrong person to cheat at cards with. Got scarred real nice he did.”

“I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting them both,” d’Artagnan screwed his face up.

“An this here’s the rest of my crew,” Tich announced proudly. “Medard, Albertet and Gaspard.”

“Now that we’re all acquainted,” d’Artagnan snapped. “May I be released?”

“Put your lot in with us, boy, and I promise ye more coins than ye can jingle in your pockets,” Tich grinned, showing more than the normal amount of missing teeth.

“Why me?”

“I like the looks of ya,” Tich shrugged. “Plus I’m in need of an extra hand right now. Ya appear to fit the bill,” he gave the lad a sly wink. “It only makes good business sense on my end. This way we won’t be working against the other either.”

Grunting, d’Artagnan appeared to reluctantly agree. “All right, but I have some private business to take care of first.”

“Just so long as it doesn’t keep ya from meeting us back here tomorrow,” Tich stabbed the boy with a sharp look. “Noon on the dot. If I don’t see ya then I’ll assume ya changed your mind.”

“You’ll see me here,” d’Artagnan offered Tich a tight smile before leaving. Wondering if these men could possibly be behind the kidnappings, d’Artagnan hoped he had made the right call.

++++

*Next day, nearly noon*

Finding himself shoved hard against the cold brick wall, d’Artagnan tried to pull the hand away that threatened to cut off his air supply. When he stared into the face of his attacker, d’Artagnan saw red. “Let go!” he growled low.

“Why should I, whelp?” Porthos snorted, then got close enough to whisper to the boy. “Gotta make it look genuine,” he quickly winked.

So while pretending to be roughened up by Musketeers, d’Artagnan listened as Athos sharp words slashed through the air only for him to hear. “I can’t believe you went along with this asinine scheme!”

“Do you want us to end up carrying your coffin?” Aramis hissed.

Pushing them all away, d’Artagnan retorted harshly. “The order came from the king himself!” Looking at his three friends now, hurt overcame him at their lack of faith. “Oh and thank you so very much for the vote of confidence!” he snapped. “Now leave before you all blow my cover!”

“We had to make sure ya were okay.” Porthos took in the picture d’Artagnan presented and had to say the pup fit right in with the riffraff of the court.

“Flea knows who I am,” d’Artagnan threw over his shoulder at Porthos before he left. Turning his back on the inseparables, d’Artagnan went to meet with Tich.

“That went well,” Aramis snorted, placing his hands on his hips as he watched d’Artagnan until the lad was out of his sight.

“If harm comes to that pup because of this fool’s errand I won’t trust myself in the presence of either the king or Treville.” Athos too stood still until d’Artagnan disappeared from his view.

++++

Fleecing honest people from their hard earned coin was not something d’Artagnan’s parents had ever taught him. He found he had a knack for it though. Who would have thought? D’Artagnan had been undercover nearly five days doing dirty work for Tich when a breakthrough finally came his way.

“Dom, how would ya like to earn more money than ya could ever dream of?” Tich grinned.

“I don’t know,” d’Artagnan rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, “I can dream a lot.”

“Good answer.” Tich gathered his men together for a powwow. “We have ta move the merchandise tomorrow.”

“And the other merchandise?” Stephane asked, fingering his sharp dagger as he kept a watchful eye on Dom. He had been against Tich taking this boy on from the beginning. Some inner sixth sense told him that Dom wasn’t quite on the up and up with them.

“Already on board,” Tich replied. “Dom, I need ya to help Gaspard and Albertet with getting my merchandise on board the Wild Raven which is docked on the other side of the court.”

“Sounds like an important haul,” d’Artagnan noticed the shifty looks that passed all their faces and knew he had hit paydirt.

“Aye, it is that,” Tich laughed. “I finally may be able to leave Paris behind me after this.”

“What time do you need me there?” d’Artagnan asked.

“Eight a.m. sharp. We’ll meet at the docks." Tick looked at each man to make sure that they were all on the same page. "I have a special place there where my stock is stowed.”

Hearing all he needed too, d’Artagnan nodded in agreement. “Tomorrow then.”

++++

As soon as he was able, d’Artagnan went to see Flea. “I need a runner you trust so I can send a message to my captain.”

“You’ve discovered what you came here for?”

“Tich and his men are the ones involved,” d’Artagnan stated firmly, he had no doubt of that now.

“Not a big surprise there,” Flea remarked offhand. “Tich was always givin’ me trouble one way or the other.”

Tapping his foot impatiently, d'Artagnan glared at her. It appeared to him that Flea didn't seem interested in moving quickly. He had asked for a runner now, not on the morrow.

“All right, I’ll get that runner for ya,” Flea shook her head at d’Artagnan. It was like dealing with a spoiled brat Flea thought as she rushed off. It hadn’t taken her more than a matter of minutes when she returned with a small ragamuffin child tagging along behind her.

Bending down, d’Artagnan looked into the boy’s grimy face and handed him the note he had hastily written. “Get this to Captain Treville at the Musketeer garrison right away. There will be a coin or two in it for your efforts when you present yourself.” Watching the boy run off, d’Artagnan noticed Flea’s concern. “He should be fine.”

“I’m not worried about him,” Flea rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be on my account either,” d’Artagnan scoffed. “I can take care of myself.”

“Famous last words,” she muttered. “Stubborn like another Musketeer I know.”

Grinning, d’Artagnan winked. “Where do you think I get it from?” With her laughter following him, d’Artagnan left for his own place.

++++

*Next morning at the docks outside the court*

“Follow Pierrick into the storage area, Dom. You’ll help him with my merchandise and then load it onto the Wild Raven for me.” Then when Tich received his payment he could make plans to leave the court forever.

When d’Artagnan walked inside the storage area with Pierrick, his eyes had to adjust to the darkened room. Once accustomed to the dim lighting, he was shocked to his soul. There were at least twenty children huddled together in this cramped cubicle. Some of the children were shivering from the cold and d'Artagnan doubted that these wee ones had even seen a meal in days.

He so wanted to help these lost souls escape their pain, but he had to bide his time until help arrived. Playing his role until Treville and the others came became even harder for d’Artagnan as he began the distasteful chore of removing these boys from their temporary home to the belly of the Wild Raven.

++++

*The Wild Raven*

When d'Artagnan discovered countless others had already been stowed in another hold of the Raven, he was bereft of words to cover his overwhelming anger at the indignity these young children had undergone. He wondered how long this operation had been in the works and right under the Musketeer's damn noses!

As he walked past the petite boys, d’Artagnan took in their young scared faces staring back at him with wary eyes. It was nearly as dark in here as it had been in the storage area, but d’Artagnan’s eyes were sharp as a tack and to his dismay he spotted something stashed in a corner covered by a filthy tarp. When he lifted the tarp up, d'Artagnan thought he would be sick to his stomach. There were at least five to six lifeless bodies piled one on top of the other. Right then d’Artagnan swore Tich would die by his hand.

++++

*Back on the dock*

“This has been a profitable day,” Tich crowed as he waited for his payment from the captain of the Wild Raven.

“In more ways than one,” d’Artagnan murmured quietly when he finally spotted Captain Treville and a large contingent of Musketeers making their way towards them.

“You are all under arrest by order of the King!” Treville hollered out as he approached Tich and his group of thugs. As his Musketeers surrounded the rogues he noticed d’Artagnan pulling out his own dagger and walking with deadly intent toward the leader. “D’Artagnan, don’t!” he commanded. Whatever had taken place while the boy was rooting out the problem for him, Treville now knew this had become personal for his youngest soldier.

Kicking Tich’s feet out from under him, d’Artagnan held his dagger to the man’s throat. “Those children that died had names... had families that loved them and you,” he spat out in disgust, “took that away from them!” D’Artagnan’s fury was such that the voices of his captain and friends didn’t even register. “So why should I let you live?”

“D’Artagnan,” Athos’s voice cried out. “The king wants this man alive!”

“Why?’ d’Artagnan shouted back. “Let him die now! By my hand!” He thought back to another time... another place when Aramis had stayed his hand in killing Gaudet. But fate was a fickle thing and the former Red Guard ended up dead with d'Artagnan's sword neatly cutting him down.

“He’s not listening,” Aramis fingered his musket. “I can take the shot.”

“Do it!” Athos snapped. Not enjoying the position d’Artagnan had put them all in.

Taking careful aim, Aramis fired and shot the dagger clean out of d’Artagnan’s hand with no harm to the boy.

Disbelief mingled with hurt as d’Artagnan stared back at Aramis. “There are dead children in the hold! Don’t any of you care?” he screamed with tears running down his face.

Grief showed on the inseparables faces at d’Artagnan’s words. They hadn’t known what their young friend had been witness too of course. But they still had their orders to bring the leader in alive if possible.

“Tich and his men will meet their maker, d’Artagnan,” Treville consoled him gruffly. “Either at the end of the hangman’s noose or by losing their heads.”

“Small comfort,” d’Artagnan swiped at his eyes. Feeling his brothers surrounding him, he eventually stood up and watched Treville drag Tich away in chains.

“I can’t believe you grew up in this place, Porthos,” d’Artagnan gazed at his friend in awe. He had only the utmost admiration for the man making something out of himself coming from a place like this.

“Sometimes I can’t believe it myself,” Porthos tugged the boy into his arms and squeezed him until d’Artagnan began to protest. “Ya did good, boyo.”

“A job well done, mon ami,” Aramis ruffled the boy’s long hair, which had d’Artagnan ducking his head in shy embarrassment.

“You are never to go undercover without back up again,” Athos kept his voice steady. D’Artagnan would never know how Athos had restrained himself from drowning his worries in his usual way. Athos had told himself he needed to be strong for their youngest. “And at first opportunity get rid of that damn scar and that distasteful brand Treville made you get!”

“Oh I don’t know,” Porthos slyly winked at the whelp. “I think it gives our lad a roguish charm.”

“One rogue in this group is more than enough for me to handle,” Athos snorted, rolling his eyes at the larger man.

“Uh, Porthos,” d’Artagnan nodded to a point in the distance. “Looks like Flea wants to have a word with you.”

“Damn!” Porthos swore softly. He could tell that wasn’t the response d’Artagnan had expected him to make by the way the lad’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not a happy reunion then?” D’Artagnan could see that even Flea seemed uncomfortable as she waited to see if Porthos would join her.

“Ya could say that, lad.”

“Let the lovebirds figure it out for themselves,” Aramis commented, his eyes twinkling at Porthos’s scowl.

“Treville and the rest of our men can handle sorting the children out and getting them back to their respective families,” Athos commented to d’Artagnan. “You, young man, need to go home with me. You’ve done more than enough.”

Watching Rene slowly coming down the gangplank cradling one of the dead children in his arms, d’Artagnan corrected his mentor. “I haven’t done nearly enough.”

The End


End file.
